Monday, September 16, 2013

'Til Death Do Us Part

I think about death a lot.

I mean, I don't actively worry about it, but I think about it. It hovers in the back.
Regarding my son - I've told you before about my Cher moment, every morning. You know in the movie "Mask", near the end when the school calls and says Rocky isn't at school and she looks at his closed door? That look is how I feel in the mornings before I step across the threshold of my son's room.
He wasn't predicted to live past infancy, then doctors said it was doubtful he'd live past 12 years of age, and then they told me he'd not make it into adulthood.
But he's 18 now and all I can do is pray for at least 18 more years.

I think about death a lot.

I'm not, in actuality, a morbid person, but I think about it. More aptly, the thoughts pop into my head and my imagination takes over to give me worst case scenarios.
Regarding my daughter - whenever I read something or watch a show about head injuries that can be the cause of death several years later, I remember rushing home from work because my daughter had gashed her head open on a branch & fallen off a pony. Took about, what, 10 staples, I think? I've blocked it out. But I worry over that. I had to wake her up every two hours that night, to ask her name, my name, the day, where she was...scary stuff. She never cried though, not the whole (4 fucking hours) we were in a cubicle in the ER, not when the doctor (FINALLY) started rinsing the blood away from the wound, not when they were stapling it closed. Not a tear.
But I imagine subdural hematoma and frontal lobe damage and all sorts of other calamities.

I think about death a lot.

I'm not really scared of dying, I'm scared of the unknown. And possible pain. Because I am a baby like that.
Regarding myself - mostly when it concerns me, I think about my final wishes and how you people better make sure they're carried out correctly. But when I worry, I think: I don't want to outlive my children. I don't want my daughter to have to be the one to find me. I don't want to be home alone with my son when it happens.
As a single parent, I have to think about these things. I mean, sure I'd love to fall asleep peacefully in my bed, but what if that happens and my daughter, my CHILD, has to be the one to find my body? Because EW. And also traumatic. And also I wouldn't be around to pay for her therapy to recover from it.
And what if she is gone - moved out, or on vacation or away for the weekend and I'm home with just Joshua? That worries me the most, I think. Because who would know? I don't have any "just dropped in for coffee!" kind of friends who would come over regularly. My phone is often dead or at least buried at the bottom of my purse where I can't hear it, so friends & family are used to me not answering calls or texting back right away.
Who would know? What would become of Joshua? It hurts my heart to think of him here, stuck in bed or his wheelchair with no one to feed him or give him juice or change his diaper or pay attention to him or turn on the TV or change the dvd for him. THAT, my friends, is a scary fucking thought.

I think about death a lot.

I don't brood over it, or actively seek out the thoughts of death, I don't plan my own (sometimes I plot yours, though)...but it's always there, that little dark cloud in the back of my mind.

PS: I also think up ways to haunt you. Because COOL.
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